


A Miracle

by myhamsterisademon



Category: Promessi Sposi - Alessandro Manzoni
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Priest Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 08:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamsterisademon/pseuds/myhamsterisademon
Summary: For a moment, shame takes the place of arousal, something mingled with self-loathing and guilt as his cock swells even more when Federigo opens his hands in a gesture that betrays shyness, and for but a moment that movement reflects Christ’s benediction – and that is exactly how he feels right now, a man blessed with something pure and untouched to do what he wants with, to worship and ruin and keep his until the end of times.





	A Miracle

“You have never done this before, have you?” he asks, staring at the man who is lying before him on the bed, entirely naked except for the golden cross that he apparently never takes off.   
  
Federigo shakes his head silently, an endearing blush reddening his chest, his cheeks, and a shudder runs through the other man’s body, blood coursing rapidly into his veins and his cock gives a twitch: he swells quicker than he thought at the mere _idea _of the things he could do to the Cardinal, things that have never been done to him before and he can just _imagine_ how he will spread him open, have him _beg_ for release like he has never begged before, not even God Himself.   
  
And, for a moment, shame takes the place of arousal, something mingled with self-loathing and guilt as his cock swells even more when Federigo opens his hands in a gesture that betrays shyness, and for but a moment that movement reflects Christ’s benediction – and that is exactly how he feels right now, a man blessed with something pure and untouched to do what he wants with, to worship and ruin and keep his until the end of times.  
  
So he tilts his head to the side, brings his hands to the Cardinal’s arms and runs them up and down, feeling the skin beneath his hands, and then he moves to his chest, thumbing his nipples until Federigo sighs.   
  
“Not even with a woman?” he asks and his hands travel down to the Cardinal’s thighs, stroking them – Federigo sighs again, this time a little longer, a little louder. He wonders how he shall spoil the purity in front of him; he wonders what would be best; he wonders which of the many fantasies he wants more.  
  
“What do you think?” he asks the Cardinal, voicing his own thoughts while he keeps touching his thighs, close enough to Federigo's cock for his intentions to be obvious, but still clearly not enough, for Federigo whines lowly, his half-hard cock twitching. “How shall I spoil your purity? Shall I kiss you all over, bruise your skin until not an inch of it is left untouched? Shall I suck you off? Or shall you do that for me? Shall _you_ suck my cock?” he whispers, leaning until his lips brush Federigo’s mouth, his tongue darting out not quite to kiss him, but almost. Federigo whines again, this time even louder than before. "Shall you take my cock into your mouth?"  
  
“Almost like the Holy Communion,” the Cardinal whispers back, his sentence ending first in a chuckle and then in a moan as a hand is _finally_ brought to his hardened cock.   
  
“That is not an answer,” the other man says, his hand setting a pace so slow it is almost punishing, his thumb stroking the reddened head and Federigo pants, legs already trembling. “What do you think?” he asks again, ducking to kiss him, his tongue sliding inside easily and licking into his mouth – Federigo moans again, so easy and pliant and shy, almost scared of his own body and of the pleasures it can bring to him.   
  
“I think – oh _God_ – I don’t know,” the Cardinal pants as the hand on his cock starts stroking faster, fingers sliding down to caress his balls – Federigo throws back his head, parts his thighs almost mindlessly, “whatever you want, _fuck_.”  
  
So the man just keeps stroking him, a little faster now, not enough to bring release, but enough that Borromeo is teetering on the edge of it, wanting more but not asking for it – and _he_ just _watches_ in fascination, watches how this man, pure and unsoiled as a saint, can turn into a whimpering mess, lost in the pleasure of his body. He would almost feel guilt and shame – indeed he does, again, for a second, until Federigo starts bucking up his hips, fucking himself in his fist, then the shame is forgotten again to leave place to arousal.  
  
“More,” Federigo finally says, “_more_.”  
  
“So you have decided what you want more, then?” the other man replies, stopping his movements and taking his hand off the Cardinal's cock; Federigo whines at the loss, his legs twitch as if he wants to move, but instead he lays there, legs spread open, cock hard and shiny, so beautiful a sight that it sends a sudden, unexpected wave of arousal coursing through _his_ body, and it’s a miracle (he smiles at the thought) that he hasn’t come yet. And then an idea flashes through his brain before the Cardinal can form an answer.  
  
“Touch yourself,” he says and Federigo’s eyes widen, so shy and meek and _innocent_ that, for the thirdt time, he fears of spoiling that purity forever – but then what is better than having the Cardinal himself do that?   
  
And so Borromeo slowly brings his own hand to his cock and starts stroking it again, at first tentative like a young maiden, but then faster and harder, bucking his hips, mouth slack and eyes shut tight, moans spilling out of his lips like a endless prayer, and it isn’t long before he comes all over his chest.  
  
“And here is my baptism,” Federigo then says, breathless.


End file.
